


and we're still fighting it

by la_victorienne



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-08
Updated: 2008-07-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_victorienne/pseuds/la_victorienne
Summary: jack isn't home yet and that's just not right.





	

Ianto is standing on the balcony of his flat when the thunder rumbles and the first few drops start to fall. His feet are bare and the hems of his pyjama pants will be soaked, but the rain is cool on his over-warm skin and soothing to his over-worked muscles. He is cranky and exhausted and that stupid project in Tibet was utter rubbish and he misses _Jack_ , misses Jack more than he ever thought he would. You'd think, he thinks to himself, that you wouldn't fall so hard for the man who killed the love of your life, who kissed you in front of everyone you actually care about and then swanned off, but Ianto can feel the contradiction in every cell of his body, lighting him up from the inside out. The truth is he doesn't care that Jack's a right bastard and is probably having a much better time wherever the hell he is than he ever did at Torchwood, he misses the stupid wanker and wants Jack to either come back or take Ianto with him, whichever is easiest and will possibly result in Ianto feeling less surly than he does now. He sighs as the rain falls harder and reluctantly returns to the warmth of indoors, shuffling into the kitchen and pretending a cup of coffee will make him feel better, although what he really wants is the feeling of Jack's fingers on his face, on his hips, on his back and the knowledge that he, Ianto Jones, has the brief and precious power of keeping the infamous Captain in one place.

He leaves a window open when he finally climbs into bed, cracked just enough so that the sound of the storm can lull him to sleep.

 

The day Jack wakes up and he realizes that he's in a bed in the TARDIS, not handcuffed to a wall, he cries his eyes out over strawberries. The Doctor's brought them in from only he knows where and Martha is sitting at the golden kitchen table looking weary but unmistakably alive pouring fresh cream over hers and Jack just can't _breathe_ , because all he can see are Ianto's strawberry cheeks and cream-white teeth, laughing about something ridiculous with Gwen without knowing Jack's watching. It's a solid, complete memory, although Jack can't place it in a where or a when, and he feels the twist in his gut that tells him no, you can't go back to how it was before, you're too involved now, Hero Harkness. He weeps into his bowl in front of the few people in the world he trusts to watch him cry and finally snuffles as unattractively as someone as perfect as him can manage and tells the Doctor in no uncertain terms to “take. Me. Home.” And the Doctor does, and Martha pretends she's never seen what she's seen, and Jack eats another bowl of strawberries, this time without shedding a tear.

And if the first thing Jack does when he gets home is not actually to rescue his team from the blowfish but instead to buy a big batch of strawberries and leave them in Ianto's refrigerator with a note of 'I'm sorry,' well, it's just the two of them who know, and just the one of them who knows why.


End file.
